Back to writing.. (At last!)

After a week of social media I am so relieved to be back writing novels. don't get me wrong I enjoy some of the chats but the endless promotion work needed by us self publishers can sometimes be exhausting (mentally)
So once again I am back doing what i love best, writing about heroes and villains!

Zachania Tome Three 
Is flying along! I am really enjoying writing it and I hope it will be worth the wait,
below is a few samples from Tome three (un-edited)

There was an weary and troubled look on the brow of Grarlin; he stood hunched as he listened to the tribal leaders arguing amongst themselves, his usual assertive self was replaced with a look of exhaustion as he tried to take stock of the situation he had now found himself in.

Degrainia the capital city of Degrain was a town under siege, there was panic in the air as everyone feared the imminent onslaught of the Zachanians.

Baron Gragu the tenth Luid of the ancient Tockla tribe was shouting angrily at his men, he was enraged with what was happening in Degrain and furious at Grarlin and the Empire for their lack of assistance.

“Why does the Emperor delay? Does he want Degrain to fall?” he yelled loudly at Grarlin who just sat down amongst all the bickering.

“Of course is it not what we want, I am here to prove this and what do I find? I find a town gripped with panic and despair.”

“You confuse panic with anger Grarlin, where is the help we were promised?...over half this sacred land is now under control of the wretched Zachanians…when is this help arriving? When will you aid us, when we are all without breath and crushed into the dirt?”

Grarlin bit his lip and looked down at his feet trying to calm himself from the angry manner he had just been spoken to, a moment later after a long breath he replied to the Baron.

“We have already taken steps to save Degrainia, you must trust me on this, Degrainia will be safe.”

“How are we safe? You came alone Grarlin, where is your army?...The Zachanians are in the hills breathing the same Degrainia air as us and alone we still stand, waiting for the attack!”

“You must not worry Gragu, have trust in your Emperor, he has not abandoned you.”

“Shall I tell that to the towns of Harloom and Doofra? They too trusted the Emperor; they waited for help as the Zachanians breached their walls and murdered them in their homes. What shall we say to them?”

Grarlin suddenly jumped up from his chair, baron Gragu’s constant shouting had now stretched his patience too far.

“BE SILENT!.....ACT as a leader and remember the heritage you stem from!....I came here to help you fight!....all I have found is a group of fat Degrainians scared that they might miss their next meal. So you are under attack, so you have lost lives, well so have we, we have been fighting the Zachanians for the past year!.....enough of you winging Gragu, ready your army and prepare for battle.”

“We will fight Grarlin, we will fight them to the last man, but what do we do with the one they call Talon, he fights with the gods on his side, in his hand he carries the sword of Apollo so how do we fight such divineness’?”

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As Gragu sat among his lords and generals in his battle room of the castle, he sat with an angry arrogance. The room where he resided in was like a shrine to his ancestors and the battles they had fought in. everywhere around were mementoes of past glorious campaigns. Most disturbing though was a large throne and sitting on the throne was the stuffed body of his grandfather, his eyes fixed forever of the map on the wall of the Degrainian empire and fixed in his hand was the sword of Kardine, ominously he sat reminding all of what power the Degrainian empire once possessed.

When baron Gragu was joined by his favourite son Buklash, he greeted him with a firm embrace. Buklash was similar to his father, strong and iron willed. He was the sixteenth eldest of Gragu’s forty three sons, but Buklash caught his father’s eye at an early age when he killed one of his brother’s in a feud over a female Degrain. It was a strange hand of fate, one which mirrored the actions of his father when he was but a boy himself. Since that day the son was schooled personally by the baron. In ancient Degrain tradition it was frequent for the strongest son to succeed his father, it did not matter if you were not the eldest, strength was always placed higher than position among the Degrain.

For centuries families and clans had been decimated with family feuding as sons fought and killed each other trying to prove who was best to rule, but this was Degrain way, it brought pain and tears for the mothers but for the fathers it brought great pride as they witnessed their son’s battle to prove their worth.

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